


Need.

by orphan_account



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Affection, Arthur needs a hug, Awkwardness, Bad at Compliments, Caring, Deep Conversations, Falling In Love, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, Pining Arthur, Reminisce, Romantic Tension, Tension, bad at feelings, close friends, compliments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s hard, coping with feelings, Arthur knows that better than anyone.





	Need.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I’d really appreciate it if you’d take a look at this, but you don’t have to by any means. If you enjoy my work, or want me to write something for you, I now do commissions! Payments can be made via my kofi, which I’ll link here. All information on commissions is there, so make sure to take extra care and read it all through! Thank you so much. I hope you have fun reading this work, and future works. Good day!
> 
> (Kofi link: ko-fi.com/vandermorgans)

Dutch, a recurrence within Arthur’s mind. Arthur supposed that he didn’t think about too much, being an outlaw lacked the time to be entirely intellectual about things. Of course, it was a coincidence among the majority of camp, thoughts of Dutch. Though, Arthur could safely say that his perceptions, wanders, would differ to that of others. Arthur couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, recall a time without Dutch. A saviour, may be a fitting word, one of the best in Arthur’s fathomable vocabulary. Yet, he was aware that things would drastically shift, if Dutch were able to hear what pooled in his head. His chest. The fluttering heartbeat, the satisfaction of bring success to his doorstep. 

Arthur was cracked back to reality, the sound of Dutch’s heavy footing upon an array of twigs, littered at Arthur’s seating. Dutch appeared content, a slight wince toward the snapping of sticks. Perhaps he was unaware of the effect of his weight, upon such fragile objects. It amused Arthur a little, and he hid any signs of the smile begging to crawl toward his lips. Dutch was obviously here for a purpose, however. Arthur felt the need to question, “What brings ya, Dutch?” A simple question, but knowing Dutch, there’d be a complex and/or prolonged answer. Not that Arthur minded. His (Arthur’s) mental capacity, couldn’t always handle the onslaught of sentences that spilled from Dutch’s mouth. But, he enjoyed listening to Dutch talk. Not admittedly, of course.

“My apologies, Arthur, I just wanted to see how you’re gettin’ along.” Arthur almost blushed at the reply, the concern shrouding Dutch’s tone. It was a softened concern, but concern nonetheless. He shrugged. A mere response, bringing an unexpected chuckle from Dutch. “I understand you aren’t exactly a man of words, Art, but I’d like a conversation.” Uninvited, Dutch seated himself beside Arthur, subtle remains of the chuckle decorating his face. 

The discussion wasn’t scarce of reminiscence, regretful mistakes tainting the tone involuntarily. Arthur’s heart swirled in warmth, coming to the realisation that Dutch just wanted to talk. Like they used to. He agreed that it’d been far too long. Dutch a man who, similar to many, succumbed to the insecurities of age. He spent the hours that ticked by, slipping jokes of his decreasing time. Arthur can’t say he received any joy from the remarks, it instilled a sense of gloom at times. Dutch payed no mind, though, to his inferior. He counted them blessed, to still be ripe with youth. 

The older of the two, took the liberty of lighting his own cigar. Clouds of smoke already cloaking Arthur’s vision, forcing a frown toward his newfound blindness to the scenery. Absentmindedly, a hand wandered to his horse, giving it a strong pat. Dutch observed, Arthur feeling the bore of his dark eyes, and a sigh of glee seemed to pass. Dutch had always carried the assumption that Arthur had a way with animals, undoubtedly horses. A talented tamer. “A good one, ain’t he?” Dutch chimed, whistle of another exhale of smoke. Arthur nodded, palm lingering, “You’re the one that told me to keep ‘im.” Dutch mimicked, nodding too. “You’re a good one too, Art.”

Arthur almost choked. He probably did, a little. Little enough to go unnoticed. Arthur wasn’t shy of compliments, really, especially from Dutch. But, he wouldn’t deny his dislike to the spontaneous, even on the behalf of Dutch. Silent, Arthur was. Unsure of how to retaliate, hoping voice would come again. “Speechless eh, son?” Tease. Arthur hated teasing. Well, not hated, but it could be far too cryptic for his tastes. Now, was an example. “I ain’t lyin’, y’know.” 

Arthur shifted, voice quiet, “Never said you was.” Dutch tossed his cigar aside, a rare sight to Arthur, but he didn’t waste breath addressing the matter. Subconsciously playing with his hands, Arthur endured Dutch’s drawl, still damned by flatter. Arthur wouldn’t deny that he didn’t really catch on to a single syllable that exited Dutch’s lips, hazy with awe and trying his absolute hardest to avoid a pink hue crossing his cheeks. Cheeks that were glossy with sweat by now, a result of the summer sun grinning down at the two. 

“Never leave my side, Arthur Morgan, I mean it.” Dutch concludes, finally grasping Arthur’s attention, whipping his head around. Dutch reached a small level of surprise, not accustomed to such a sharp reflex. “I’d never.” Arthur said, tone carrying a dribble of offence. Dutch threw up his hands, rings glinting. Arthur squinted. “I know that, really, son. But, an old man still has his fair share of worries.” Worries? What would even bring about a shred of a worry? Arthur wasn’t a man to take loyalty lightly, especially when he owed the entirety of his existence to the man that was positioned beside him. “Dutch,” Arthur began, oddly sincere, “I owe ya my life, what’re ya doin’ worryin’?” 

He felt Dutch sigh.

“I suppose when a man realises how much something means to him, he tends to fret over it.” Arthur felt his heart wrench, stomach turn. He...meant something? Truly, he meant something. Dutch noticed, Arthur’s eyes, the relay between Dutch and his feet. Dutch noticed, Arthur had never felt that he meant something to someone. A pang hit Dutch’s chest, radiating throughout his torso, a pang of gloom.

Thoughtless, and impulsive, Dutch tugged Arthur into a tightened embrace. His fingers curling into sleeves, crumpling the fabric, feeling the writhe of Arthur’s skin. 

Dutch understood that perhaps, Arthur needed him more than he thought.


End file.
